


Sleepless, Dreamless

by riseoverrun



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 12:48:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2622365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riseoverrun/pseuds/riseoverrun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Sloan, every single crazy thing that has and is happening on this night is reduced to background noise when Don wordlessly takes her hand in his as they wait for the elevator down.</p><p>"Is this your way of asking me to go home with you?" </p><p>"If it is, would you say yes?"</p><p>(Post-Season 2, Election Night fic.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepless, Dreamless

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive the fact that it only took me a year and some change to write this, just after Season 3 has premiered. The idea only occurred to me upon a rewatch of S2 in preparation of the new season. Besides, any addition of Don/Sloan fic is good even despite its untimeliness, right?

For Sloan, every single crazy thing that has and is happening on this night is reduced to background noise when Don wordlessly takes her hand in his as they wait for the elevator down.

"Is this your way of asking me to go home with you?" 

"If it is, would you say yes?"

She smiles. "Not only would I emphatically say yes, I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

"Then I guess I made the right call," he says as he strengthens his grip, the pinch of their entwined fingers an assertion that he doesn't plan on letting go anytime soon. Struck by the intensity with which she feels the same way, she leans her head against his shoulder and holds on tight.

 

*

 

They ought to have passed out as soon as they hit the bed but instead they lie motionless yet alert in an inelegant tangle of arms and legs, slowly burning off what's left of their Election Night-induced energy. Don's blankets, and the press of his chest against hers prove to be a potent combination, and because of it Sloan can feel the tension and stress of the last few weeks drain away. Yet while her body is loose and relaxed, her mind is in overdrive, turning over the same few questions without any sign of relenting.

As if on cue, Don asks, "What's going on inside that head of yours?"

"I don't get it. Why did you go through the trouble of faking a bidding war, then spend a thousand dollars on my book and not even tell me?"

"And here I thought we’d enjoy a quiet night," he sighs, "one where I'd get out of answering that." 

"Don, we're both journalists. Asking questions is at the very foundation of what we do." 

"Point taken." He positions himself on his side to look her in the eye, his gaze focused and intense, and it feels good to have someone's undivided attention tonight for a change. Almost too good, even, as Sloan finds herself fighting the urge to shiver, or to forget talking and just make out with him. Yeah, it's going to be a challenge to not act upon that impulse whenever it presents itself.

"I saw your book and thought I'd place the first bid to get the ball rolling, then I hated that I was doing the bare minimum so I circled back. And because I'm a dolt who gets competitive with my own alter egos I just kept going and going. But the whole time in the back of my mind there was the thought of how happy you'd be once you found out how much money you'd raised, and I wanted to be the one to help you do it." 

"That doesn't explain the pseudonyms or the secrecy--"

"I didn't tell you," he interjects, "because I was embarrassed! I pulled the kind of shit that one of Neal's internet nerd friends would probably do, people I normally mock. Also, I knew you'd think I did it out of pity even though that couldn't have been further from the truth. Jesus, Sloan, you're so goddamn incredible, but half of the time you don't even realize it, or you just can't bring yourself to believe it. And who am I? I'm just a stupid idiot who happens to be crazy about you."

She and Don have spent so much of the past year gravitating closer towards each other, constructing a dialogue out of gestures and glances, each one weighted with a suppressed yearning that went unspoken. Now he's just shattered that silence with such open and blunt words, and it feels like a sucker-punch to the gut, throwing her off-balance and sending her into free fall.

Familiarity with disappointment has made Sloan guarded, unwilling to hope for too much, only to be let down. But now she's allowing herself to want again, to fully own her desire for this man lying beside her who seems to want her just as much. It's a wondrous and heady feeling, so much so that she swears she can feel the endorphins coursing through her, leaving her euphoric, blissed out on her body's own natural drugs.

"Sloan. Sloan? Are you still with me?" Don's voice calls out, drawing her out of her reverie and back into the present.

She opens her mouth to speak, then thinks better of it. She's been awake for nearly 24 hours straight; there is no way she has the mental clarity to articulate the breadth of what she's feeling, not without it devolving into incoherent blathering. 

Grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, she instead closes the space between them and kisses him long and deep, hoping to convey the depth of her want and joy through her kiss. The way that Don groans against her mouth makes her optimistic about her efforts, as does the manner in which he pulls back only when the need for air becomes too great.

"I see you're making a habit of that," he pants out as he tries to catch his breath.

"Do you have a problem with it?" She asks because she honestly doesn't know. Don doesn't seem to her like the kind of guy who dislikes it when a woman takes the lead, but she's been wrong before.

"Nope, I'm all for it and am just happy to be a participant," he says with an impish smile, one that makes Sloan want to kiss him all over again. "Not sure if Charlie or HR would feel the same way, though. You did storm into the control room and ambush an EP when you were supposed to be on-air."

She scoffs. "You and I both know that doesn't even rank in the top ten offenses committed at ACN lately." 

"True. Making out in the middle of a live broadcast, accusing the U.S. military of a major war crime. We are a pretty disreputable bunch."

"Speak for yourself. 'What I have can't be taught?' You know, some might say that you can be smug asshole at times," she says, though the laughter in her eyes undercuts any feigned annoyance.

"Says the one lying in bed with this smug asshole."

"I apparently have a type. I mean, you could have come clean about the auction but instead you let me ramble on in front of the staff."

“I--” he starts, then falters. “Yeah, I have no excuse for that. I guess I will have to resign myself to spending the rest of my days trying to make it up to you."

She considers this for a moment. "I can live with that. Or, I could quiz you on the contents of  _Hyperinflation in the Weimar Republic: The Economics of Post World War I Germany_." Don's eyes go wide with worry at that. "Just kidding. Sort of. You do have two copies now, so you really ought to have some kind of working knowledge--" 

"The title alone is enough to make my head spin, so I'll stick with the first one," he concedes. "Fuck, what an insane night it's been. Obama's going to remain in office, Will and Mac are engaged... That's either going to be the best or worst thing to happen to the newsroom." She jabs him lightly in the rib for that. "Hey!" he yelps.

She ignores him. "It was my duty as Kenzie's best friend. Besides, all that matters is that she and Will finally got their happy ending." She pauses before adding, "So did we, come to think of it."

"I'd say it's more like a new beginning."

"Oh, I really like the sound of that," she beams, contentment all but radiating off of her face.

"Good, I do, too. Now, c'mere." He curls his hand behind her neck and rests his forehead against hers. She reciprocates by nestling into him, his touch a comfort that feels both familiar yet exhilarating in its newness. 

It isn't long after that she feels herself fading, but one last thought occurs to her before she drifts off to much-deserved sleep: not only have she and Don managed to survive this crazy past year, somehow they came out of it with something  _this_  good. 

Sloan can't help but think that there is a bit of wonder in that.


End file.
